Restlessly bumping his hands together, Cade looked back to Becka. “Ryan’s in the room at the top of the stairs getting primped, I guess. You can just go on up. I have to go put out the flower stands.” He gestured toward a flower truck that sat at the edge of the pavement.
“Let me get Becka inside and I’ll come help,” Mace said. He walked her to the room at the top of the stairs and set the cooler down, then pulled her close for a hot, hard, utterly possessive kiss that went all the way through her. She melted against him, feeling the strength of his body against hers, the impossibly soft feel of his mouth. When he pulled away, she blinked at him, half dazed.
“Mmm. What was that for?”
“Because I know that I’m going to want to have you all night,” he said lightly, “and I’m only going to be able to look.”
“Not necessarily.”
Mace grinned. “Sugar, if your daddy is on the premises, a peck or two is all you get.”
“Give me a break, Duvall,” she laughed. “My daddy’s not like that.”
Mace grinned and patted her behind as she turned to the door. “Sweetheart, every woman’s daddy is like that. Have fun,” he called as he walked down the stairs.
SUNLIGHT STREAMED IN from enormous windows. Ryan’s dress hung from a door, an elegant column of white. With lingerie strewn across the comfortable-looking couch and cosmetics dotting the dressing table, the room looked soft and feminine.
Becka made an impromptu buffet of the cheese and fruit she’d brought, then handed Ryan a mimosa. “To you and Cade,” she toasted. “Here’s to health, happiness, long life and wild sex on a daily basis.”
“Now, that I’ll toast to.” Ryan clinked glasses with her and sank down on the couch.
“Are you nervous?” Becka asked, watching her drink.
“Hmm?” Ryan considered. “No, I don’t think so. I was worried about the weather, but it’s turned out to be beautiful. I think it’ll be great.” Ryan picked up a cracker as Becka pulled up a chair at the dressing table to put on her makeup. “This is like the sleepovers we used to have. Remember?”
“I remember your mom always coming in about one in the morning and telling us to go to sleep.” They’d really tried, she recalled, only to be seized with fits of giggles just at the edge of sleep.
“I remember staying up to watch Love Boat reruns. And playing Barbies all night and eating Pop-Tarts.”
Becka giggled as she stroked on mascara. “Remember making Barbie and Ken have sex?”
“Oh God,” Ryan clutched her arm. “What about the night we had the orgy with GI Joe and Skipper and Malibu Barbie?”
“And your brother came in and found us and washed GI Joe in the bathtub to get rid of the cooties?” They shrieked with laughter at the memory.
“Any more of that champagne?” Ryan asked, waving an empty glass.
“Just be careful,” Becka warned. “We don’t want Cade thinking he married a lush.”
“Just one more,” Ryan promised as she took the fresh drink. “I’ll be good.” She rose and walked to the window that looked out over the sculpture garden in back, watching the wedding preparations. “So did you see Cade when you were coming in?” she asked offhandedly.
Becka grinned. “We ran into him out front when we drove up. He looks fabulous. And a little nervous.”
“Nervous like cold feet nervous?” Ryan asked, her voice elaborately casual.
Becka shook her head. “Nervous like something really exciting is going to happen and I can’t wait, nervous. I left Mace with him. He’ll take care of him.”
Ryan looked back out the window. “Oh my, is that Mace in the tan and cream?”
Becka walked up to peer over her shoulder. Amazing. Even from where she stood, just the sight of him gave her butterflies. “Yep, that’s him.”
“He’s gorgeous. No wonder you got tired of saying no.”
“Down, girl.” Becka pushed her shoulder affectionately. “You’ve already bagged your limit.”
“Well that doesn’t mean I can’t—oh my God,” she clutched Becka’s forearm. “There’s Cade!” The words ended in a squeak. “Look at him, he’s really down there, and…” she broke off, her voice unsteady. “This is really going to happen.” She put a shaking hand to her face.
“Are you okay?” Becka asked anxiously. “Breathe, please.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just need to sit down,” she said, beginning to tremble.
“You want some water?” Becka asked anxiously.
“No.” She sat on the couch, looking pale. “No,” she said, more calmly. “It’s just, this whole time, none of this has felt real, you know? I’ve been going through the motions like it was all going to happen, but it didn’t really feel like it was happening to me. And just now, when I saw Cade—”
“You realized it was true.”
Ryan turned to her, her eyes huge. “He wants me for life, Becka. We’re going to stand in front of all these people and he’s going to say forever. I love him so much I feel like my heart’s going to explode.”
Becka pulled Ryan close, close enough to feel her body shaking. “Hey, you’re not going to pass out, are you?”
Ryan shook her head and blew out a breath. “It just hit me all at once there.”
“That’s because you’ve been in denial for five months. An hour and a half more, and you’re done for. Now finish your makeup,” Becka ordered as she reached for the champagne bottle.
“What happened to all the warnings about getting drunk?”
“I’m a trained EMT,” Becka said blandly. “This is for medicinal purposes only.”
WHERE HAD THE YEARS GONE, Becka wondered as she walked down the aisle toward Cade, listening to the strains of the harp player. Flowers and ribbons lined the aisle, daisies dotted the grass at her feet. It seemed like only minutes earlier she and Ryan had been playing hopscotch. Now, they were going down the aisle to her wedding ceremony.
As Becka neared the seats, one face only caught her eye: Mace, staring at her as if she were some magical creature that might disappear. Then he blew her a kiss and something shifted so that she blinked. Everything around them seemed unchanged, but something was different. It was as though every line and plane of his face was underscored by some special importance, and even when she knew she should look forward, she couldn’t stop gazing at him.
She didn’t have time to do more than wonder because then she was standing at the front, looking on as Ryan approached with her father. Becka watched Cade’s face light up, watched Ryan become absolutely incandescent with joy. With the blooms of the bouquet cool against her fingers, she heard them recite their vows, listened as they pledged their lives to one another. And the words she’d heard so many times became new again as they joined hands, exchanged rings, and became husband and wife. And somewhere along the line, when she wasn’t noticing, tears dampened her cheeks.
MACE WATCHED BECKA walk down the aisle after the wedding, hand on the best man’s arm. The skirt of her gauzy peach dress fluttered around her calves, making her look like some woods nymph.
Becka stepped away from her escort, surreptitiously wiping her eyes. Something twisted inside Mace, as he looked at her, and he walked over without thinking. “You okay?” he asked.
Becka blinked and nodded. “Sure.”
“Why is it that weddings always make women cry?” he wondered aloud, shaking out his handkerchief and pressing it into her hand.
Becka gave him a bashful look and wiped at her eyes. “I know, it’s such a girl thing to do. But when it’s someone I love, like Ryan, and everything’s so wonderful, it just…fills me up and I can’t keep it all inside.” She blinked and sniffed again. “That probably sounds dumb.”
“No.” He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “It sounds nice. They’re going to be good together, I think. She was all he could talk about before the ceremony.”
A throat cleared. Mace looked up to see an older couple standing before him. Becka
pulled away hastily.
“Mom, Dad, hi.” Becka cleared her throat, looking a little nervous, he thought. “This is Mace Duvall, from the Lowell team. Mace, these are my parents, Nola and Dale Landon.” She stepped in to hug them. Her father dutifully pulled her close, but never took his eyes off Mace.
The look swept him back to high school, taking Lucinda McFarr to senior prom. He’d pinned on her corsage in the doorway, her father glowering at him the whole time. Here it was, nearly fifteen years later, but he felt an absurd urge to reassure Becka’s father that he’d have her home by ten.
“Mr. Landon.” Mace shook hands with her father, one corner of his mouth quirking up as he felt the older man’s grip testing him.
“Call me Dale,” her father said.
“Nice wedding, huh?” Becka asked.
“It was lovely,” her mother said, picking a stray bit of fluff off of Becka’s shoulder. “But I can’t think what Sonia was thinking, not making them get married in the church.”
Dale gave Mace an assessing look. “I was sorry to hear you had to retire. You were a fine player.”
“Thank you, sir,” Mace said. Funny how the Southern manners came back. Next thing he knew, he was going to start telling the man what he had planned for his and Becka’s date.
“So you’re trying coaching on for size now? It’s a job worth doing.”
“You’re a basketball coach, right?”
Dale nodded. “There’s nothing like watching a team win and knowing that you were part of it.” He glanced idly across to the pavilion. “Looks like the bar’s open. Why don’t you and I go get these ladies a couple of drinks?”
“Daddy!” Becka hissed, widening her eyes at him.
“You stay here and talk with your mama, honey,” Dale said, unperturbed. “Mace here won’t mind ferrying some drinks with me, will you?” He gave him a bland look.
“Not at all,” Mace said.
Becka sent him a grateful smile. “White wine, then, please.”
“Fine. Mrs. Landon?”
Nola looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’ll have a spritzer, please.” A breath of wind pulled her hat loose and Becka stepped in to help her get it pinned back on.
“Pretty girl, my daughter,” Dale said as he and Mace walked away.
“She’s a beauty, sir. You and your wife did a fine job.” Squirrels chittered at them from the trees.
“We like to think so. She’s a trusting young lady. Hasn’t always expected as much from her gentleman friends as she should have.” His tone was conversational. “You can understand that as her father I like to see her treated right.” They drifted over to the bar set up under the tent.
“Yes sir.” The man certainly didn’t beat around the bush, Mace thought with amusement. He tried to imagine how he’d feel if he had a baby girl, a beauty like Becka that he’d watched bloom from a child.
And decided he didn’t blame Dale Landon one bit.
Just what was going to happen with Becka, Mace wondered, watching the breeze molding the thin fabric of her dress against her as she talked with her mother. One more week wasn’t enough. He had no answer for the question her father had obliquely been asking because he didn’t know what he wanted. More, he definitely wanted more, but it seemed too soon.
Except when he thought about walking away, it didn’t just feel too soon.
It felt impossible.
THE LAST RAYS of the setting sun shone in through the ballroom, turning the gold leafed scrollwork on the walls to fire. Chandeliers glimmered overhead, white and soft green swathed the tables and chairs. Flowers spilled out of the centerpieces and dotted the room, filling it with scent and the sense of extravagant celebration.
A jazz trio at the back of the room played light after-dinner tunes as Ryan and Cade moved around the tables to greet their guests and accept congratulations.
“I’ll be right back,” Mace said, brushing his lips over hers. Becka watched him walk into the crowd, still trying to understand what had happened during the ceremony. It was nothing she could put her finger on, but she had the feeling it was somehow critical.
Out in the room, someone clinked a knife against a water glass. Around them, others took it up until the room was filled with the clinking demand for bride and groom to kiss.
“If you insist,” Cade said and put his arms around Ryan to dip her back so low that her veil brushed the floor, kissing her until people began whooping. He raised her back up and accepted the applause with extravagant bows. “You’ll excuse me, but I think it’s time that I dance with my bride,” he said, and pulled Ryan onto the floor.
Becka rose and walked over to watch. Ryan and Cade moved together as though they were connected. They didn’t seem aware that anyone else was watching them, or indeed, that there was anyone else in the room. They were different, somehow part of a whole in a way they’d never been before. There was something about the wedding ceremony, Becka thought, something about making those pledges aloud. The vows were just words, the commitment already made long since, but saying them to each other in front of witnesses somehow made it real.
For good or for ill, she wondered. Nellie and Joe, and her mother and father, they all made her want to shake her head. Yes, they were marriages and part of a unit, but they took each other for granted. Becka had watched Ryan plan the wedding from afar, wondering how she could take the chance that the magic of her relationship with Cade might be supplanted by complacency. The tie that became obligation, she knew from her parents’ marriage. No fire, just teamwork. Somehow Ryan and Cade’s love seemed too fragile to subject to that.
Then Ryan’s parents stepped out on the floor to the opening strains of “I Only Have Eyes For You,” and Becka caught her breath. If Ryan and Cade moved like they were connected, Phil and Sonia Donnelly moved as one, flowing across the floor in a private world of their own. Phil looked into his wife’s eyes as though she were a rare and precious gift, and he leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead. He guided her into a slow, graceful turn, and she laughed aloud, then reached in to hold him.
This was love, Becka thought, blinking suddenly damp eyes. True love, lasting love. Suddenly, it made sense that Ryan would think marriage natural, because where there was this kind of love, complacency could never enter. Where there was this kind of love, the only thing that mattered was that the two people were together. She watched them move around the floor and her eyes looked beyond, to where Mace was skirting the edge of the dance floor, coming to her.
And abruptly it was as it had been in the ceremony. Everything else was backdrop, all sounds and sights receded except him. As he walked toward her, his face held all the meaning of her life. Becka stared, barely breathing.
As though mesmerized by a sudden purpose, Mace passed the table and walked directly to her. He caught up her hand to lead her onto the floor, his fingers curled around hers, and her heart began to race. And with sudden shock, she realized the truth.
She was in love with him.
18
BECKA HURRIED from the team bus to the New York hotel lobby, fighting through a torrential downpour. It was hard to decide which was worse, the rain or the relentless humidity that had preceded the storm. All evening, she’d felt sticky and sweaty, now all she wanted was a real shower.
“And people bitch about the storms in Florida,” Mace said disgustedly, as they joined the group of sodden players standing in front of the elevators. Morelli raked his wet hair back with his fingers and looked around. “Anybody want to go out after we get cleaned up?”
Chico gave him a hard stare. “What, you want to celebrate? In case you didn’t notice, Morelli, we lost.”
Morelli shrugged and offered a half grin. “That’s okay, we can go out and cheer up.”
The other players didn’t bother to answer, merely loaded up on the elevator when it arrived.
Upstairs, Becka watched the colored lights on the card lock blink as she let herself into her room. It was a typical traveling mote
l: bed, dresser, television, chair. And a connecting door on one wall that led to the room on the other side.
She pulled it open. One of the great benefits of being the traveling secretary, she reflected, was being able to choose room assignments. With Mace assigned to the room on the other side, it was easy to open the connecting doors and sleep together with no one the wiser.
She heard the snick of the dead bolt as Mace opened his door. In two steps, he had her against him. For a moment, he didn’t even kiss her, just held her, his cheek against her hair. Becka closed her eyes and absorbed his presence. More so than ever before, her moments with him had become precious, because lurking underneath it all was the knowledge that in five days he would be gone. And then she had to figure out what to do. She sighed and squeezed him to her. Their wet clothing squelched.
Mace laughed and stepped back from her. “You look like a drowned rat.”
“You’re looking a little humid yourself,” she said, eyeing him.
He traced a finger down from her shoulder to the peak of one breast, where the nipple stood out through the damp fabric. “I have to say I like what soaking wet clothes do for you.”
“You think they look good on me?”
“I think they’d look even better off,” he said, reaching for her.
Becka put a hand against his chest. “I have a better idea. How about a hot shower?”
“Your place or mine?”
“Mine. I’ve got better shampoo.”
He grinned and turned toward the bathroom.
“You go ahead,” she called. “I’ll be with you in a second. I just want to check to see what the Weather Channel is predicting for tomorrow.”
He pulled her close for a lingering kiss. “Okay, but don’t take too long.”
As the shower started up in the background, Becka sank down on the bed. She still hadn’t truly processed the realization that she was in love with Mace. She knew how to take a lover and how to leave one, how to kiss, how to have sex, how to give the ultimate sensual massage.
She hadn’t a clue how to be in love.
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